


Feather's touch

by Jagopolis



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Kamuegi week 2020, M/M, Medical Trauma, Non-Sexual Touch, Past Torture, Post-Game, Scars, i guess?, some very mild nudity?, they just sit and chill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26179738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jagopolis/pseuds/Jagopolis
Summary: Kamuegi week 2020, day 5, scars.Makoto is invited to inspect Hajime’s old scars.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Naegi Makoto
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67
Collections: Kamuegi Week 2020





	Feather's touch

Makoto slowly traces his fingers along a scar on Hajime's back. It's one of the longest ones, its line, and his spine going hand in hand. The width of it isn't much more than a centimeter, the shape is that of a straight line. Almost perfectly straight, dividing his back into left and right. Both sides riddled with their own, identical scars in perfect symmetry. It isn't hard to assess that the one who made these scars was a professionalist. It also isn't hard to notice the way Hajime struggled to sit still, more muscles tense than relaxed.

It's not as if they are here out of coercion, not really.

(Earlier in the morning, during breakfast, Hajime approached him. A strange occurrence, really, since the survivors tended to mostly avoid the present Foundation members. And, when not avoiding, they would engage in one-on-one, private conversations. Makoto himself held such conversations with a few of them, Hajime most commonly.

"Oh, hello Hinata-San! Do you need anything?" Makoto chirped with that bright energy he always had. Hajime looked almost startled, refusing to look at the other. But, why? Due to the use of his own name? He took a deeper breath and answered. The five seconds pause was not commented upon.

"Could you. . . meet me in my room? Later." he sounded almost unsure, hesitant to spit the words out. Makoto blinked.

"Of course! I'll be there right after I finish eating."

Hajime didn't answer. He nodded and walked away.)

His fingers move up and Hajime's tough facade finally cracks, his shoulders pulling away. Makoto doesn't comment, doesn't even make a following move. Not until the scared man himself leans back into his hand, letting out a strained breath none of them realized he was holding.

"Continue."

It's a quiet, almost pleading sound. Makoto couldn't see the other's face, but from the tone alone, he could tell it was not one of peaceful bliss.

(The door behind them shut closed, two Hopes standing in silence so absolute Makoto could almost hear his own heartbeat.

He opened his mouth to speak and break the strange charm, asking in the same polite tone as always.

"Why did you summoned me here, Hi-"

"I want you to see my scars."

The sentence came out of nowhere and forced Makoto's brain to scramble for information. The request was rather sudden and strange, after all. 

"A-are you sure?" Politeness was still there but now accompanied by tugging at his own sleeves and glances between Hajime's eyes and a wall. Even if said eyes were stuck looking at the floor, not at Makoto.

Just a nod. And then, Hajime starts taking his hoodie off.)

So he continues to touch it, careful to not startle Hajime further. Up. And down. With minimal speed and even less force put into it. Just a light feather falling from a perfect slide, created by hands much harsher and much more precise than his.

There are other scars. He knows, he can see them, after all. Just on the back, two twin cuts where Hajime's kidneys are. And another two, along the line of his ribs. There are probably more on his chest, arms, legs, but he's not allowed to see them. Not yet, at least.

(Makoto held his breath. So many of them. A near-perfect web, detailing each piece of human anatomy, opening a path to it somewhere long in the past.

Or, in the present, judging by the pained look in the mismatched eyes. A few seconds pass, and Hajime turned around, now showing off those on the back. Makoto started breathing again, but it was a shallow breath at the absolute best.

"Could you. . . touch one?"

A request even stranger. But Makoto didn't hesitate for a second and nodded. Then, realized that the other had his back turned to him, so he spoke up.

"Of course, Hinata-san."

Another nod. The taller Hope sat down on the only bed in the room, making space for the smaller one, as well as getting comfortable himself.

"Just the long one. On the back. Don't touch anything else."

And Makoto followed his instructions.)

To be honest, he'd love to play with other scars as well. Check if they have the same texture, study every bit of his body like the scientists before him but without the malicious intent or a cold scalpel. Just a warm touch of a gentle feather. And occasional breathing. Shallow. Strained. Or deep. Soothing.

"I can stop if you want me to." Makoto prompts, yet continues the motion. Up, down, up, down, shoulders slowly pull apart, breathing slows down by just a bit. A noticeable one. Makoto feels some odd pride.

". . .then stop." And just like this, the moment is gone. Hajime moves away, shuffles deeper onto the bed, almost as if running away from the intimacy. His breaths become quicker once more. And he still has his back turned to Makoto, who simply agrees to such a state of affairs.

"Um, are you okay?" but alas, the desire to keep everyone safe wins with good manners. He follows him, a little. A small step or half, closing the gap without infringing on Hajime's personal space.

And for the first time this morning, Hajime looks at him straight in the eye

It's the red eye that's watching. If not for the short hair, Makoto would gasp and mistake the other for his past self. For the wicked creation of Hope's Peak ambition and hunger for hope. Even at the cost of a life as bright as Hajime's.

"Come on, it's just me. . ." Makoto continues, praying to something that Hajime will finally face him. Maybe it works, or maybe Hajime is the chosen God listening to the hopeful prayer. With a sigh, he turns around to sit face to face with him. Two different eyes, dark but short hair, and god, the scars.

Only now that there is only a thin line of air separating them can he see the scars on his face. Two, very small ones. A little over his eyes. Or, very up his nose? He vaguely remembers why they're there, out of all places. These are lobotomy scars.

Against his better judgment, he goes in again, pulling himself closer and running his hand through Hajime's hair, just behind his ear. There is a scar there too. Hajime shivers. Doesn't comment though. Simply continues to watch.

"You're still pretty, you know?" he asks, backing down. No need to make Hajime uncomfortable. That was never Makoto's intention. And yet, Hajime looks almost. . . Disappointed, for a second. Then processes the words said, a small smile cracking through the suntanned, freckled face. No answer.

Hajime's really adopted some of Kamukura's speaking habits. That is: to not speak at all.

Makoto leans in, takes the time to stop and wordlessly ask for permission. It is given with a nod of Hajime's head, and the younger Hope continues to move. He stops only when his lips brush against the other's lobotomy scars, as gentle as his fingers before. It's a short kiss. Then another one, to the twin scar.

He'd kiss every single scar on Hajime's body if he had the time.

But it flies mercilessly, and soon they both will have to go back to work. For the Foundation, for the island to make them habitable.

When Makoto pulls away, he is stopped by a tug on his wrist.

Oh. well. No work getting done today. Doesn't matter, this work is the most important.

To help his love recover.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 3 am in a heightened state, I haven't edited it much, I haven't even thought about what I'm writing. Please, forgive me. Harass me on twitter or tumblr, both under Jagopolis


End file.
